Dear Hoarders:
If you have perishable shit in your hoard, use it now. It is only going to spoil if you hang on to it for too long.
Got too much?
Maybe have an honour box by your yield to gain partial redemption on your alleged investment. It’s never going to pay you back but consider this: You’re not going to profit from a bag of weevils either, you turgid potato.
Challenge #01731-D270: They Call it Dragoncote
Why do dragons hoard wealth and guard it so jealously? Because for dragons, much like for kings, money is power.
With kings, such a phrase lies more in the metaphor of capitalism, but for dragons it is taken much more literally - the greater the amount of gold and jewels and other treasures a dragon can amass and claim as their own, the more magically potent and physically larger they become, and likewise the less riches they possess, the smaller and weaker they become. Thus can their kind span from colossal ancient beasts dwelling in caverns lined with gold and gems down to tiny bat-sized wyrmlings clinging to their first silver coin… – Anon Guest
They say money is power, and it’s a good thing that most dragons don’t get to hoard enormous amounts of gold. Most remain small, and hoard a single coin of negligible value. Their young are indistinguishable from geckoes, and the only way to truly tell is leave a coin in their line of sight.
Some infest bankers and trade-halls, where the people test money by seeing if the nearest dragon will try to snatch it. In towns that prosperous, it is bad luck to take off jewelry. Some dragons curl jealously around their first coin, and come along when it is spent. And rarely, very rarely, a dragon will find something more… valuable than a single coin.
Value is not the same as wealth.
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Challenge #01545-D084: Hoarded Labyrinth
Unpacking a Packrat’s Hoard. – Anon Guest
It was a lovely old house, that was certain. It was such a shame that it was filled, floor to ceiling, with packrattus. Great-Aunt Shirl had been one of those people who kept the wrapping paper off of her presents and the stubs from her movie tickets. Everything she had, was kept in the box it came in. And the shopping bag it arrived home in. About the only thing she threw out was the spoiled food, and even that went onto something resembling a compost heap. It was more like a small, artificial hill in the back garden that the magpies and crows raided on a regular basis.
Now that Great-Aunt Shirl had gone to her eternal rest, the only clear spaces in the house were the tracks where her elderly feet had shuffled. Sandra had taken a brief tour of Great-Aunt Shirl’s goat trails and decided to camp out in the yard, which was at least free of potential death by avalanche. It wasn’t the first time she’d slept in her car, but thanks to Great-Aunt Shirl and her hatred of everyone else in the family, it might be the last. House, land, and everything on it belonged to Sandra, now.
Sandra began by sorting out the things that were stored on the stepladder. Filing them into Recycle, Restore, and Rubbish. The last of that classification went into the gigantic skip that she’d ordered five seconds after deciding on camping. Of the Recycle pile, that was subdivided into two classes, Donate and Recycling Centre. Having had much help from St. Vincent’s in the past, Sandra felt it was time to give back. The Restoration stuff, stored temporarily in a U-Store place, would be revived as much as possible before going to an auction house.